


In the Shadows I Will Find You

by midnightflame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blindfolds, Kissing, Light BDSM, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Restraints, This is how they tackle the darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10003955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightflame/pseuds/midnightflame
Summary: “Am I a threat now?”Warmth settles against his lips, though it’s not a kiss. Shiro can tell that much by the way they sit against his mouth, hot and premeditated, hovering precise as a hummingbird. And he can feel the way Keith smiles, the subtle part of his lips as the gesture takes hold and grows ever so slowly. Can hear the flicker of a different sort of amusement, full of want and promise, within the breath that follows.“You have no idea, Shiro.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, this would be the companion piece to "Die For Me" for if that was the Valentine's edition then this is Shiro's birthday present. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> And music selection would be "Lost Souls" by Raury

It’s the sound that hits him sharpest, cloth rustling as metal chips against metal, razor-thin against his ears.

“You trust me, right, Shiro?”

The breath stills in his lungs. Shiro feels his lips part, the exhale heavy with finality as it pushes up from his chest. 

“Always.”

He hears Keith huff softly behind him, quietly pleased by the response.

“Then keep your eyes closed and don’t move.”

Seconds later, his world grows impossibly darker, as if God himself had snuffed out all the stars in the galaxy, leaving him to drown in the blackness of space. The soft murmurings of panic echo from the depths of his mind, telling him that there are fears worth falling to because there are monsters far too real in this world. Ones that will gladly eat him alive. Shiro tips his head back as he feels the cloth knotted into place at the back of his head. 

“Keith. . .”

His arms are pulled behind him, wrists crisscrossed one over the other and bound together, the fabric thick and solid as it’s snaked over his skin, weaving in and out. A sinuous sort of entrapment that pushes the blood hot and fierce through Shiro’s heart. Metal _chinks!_ softly against metal, ending with a solid _click!_ as everything falls into place. A belt, Reason tells him, though its words are nearly lost to the din driving a racket through his chest, right up into his head. 

Lips part again, tongue darting out nervously. The corner of his mouth curves a second later, the smile built on a fear Shiro wishes he could destroy but finds himself falling prey to over and over again. 

His heart screams. 

And then, everything falls to utter silence as fingertips brush along his cheekbone. All the ghosts of memory hushed before the certainty that exists within that touch. Waiting, watching, praying for redemption. 

“Where did you learn this?” Shiro whispers, throat dry, voice threadbare. 

Fingertips leave his skin. Another moment and Shiro makes out the sound of a drawer opening then shutting with one rough shove. 

“They did teach us how to restrain potential threats back at the Garrison,” Keith replies. Ever the calm to the storm raging in Shiro’s mind. 

The corner of his mouth drifts upwards, as amusement, dark and unforgiving, trickles into his thoughts.

“Am I a threat now?”

Warmth settles against his lips, though it’s not a kiss. Shiro can tell that much by the way they sit against his mouth, hot and premeditated, hovering as precise as a hummingbird just millimeters away. And he can feel the way Keith smiles, the subtle part of his lips as the gesture takes hold and grows ever so slowly. Can hear the flicker of a different sort of amusement, full of want and promise, within the breath that follows. 

“You have no idea, Shiro.”

*

He tends to find himself here, often despite his better thoughts, watching as the castle-turned-ship cuts through space, as worlds pass them by and the stars glimmer in the distance. Far off and untouchable. As if by courting enough of the endless beyond, he might somehow find the parts of himself lost on the way to getting here. After all, there is still far too much he can’t recall, and the holes in his memory are as devastating as dying stars, crushing everything around them as if in some divine retribution for being dragged to the end of a life.

Sometimes, he thinks there are things that will remain lost forever. Devoured by the far-reaching emptiness of space. Forgotten to eternity. It makes him grateful for the scars; at least they have stories to tell. 

“Dinner should be ready soon,” Keith says, coming to an easy stop beside Shiro. He sets his hands against the railing, turning his gaze towards the window and the vast beyond blazing a multitude of brilliant colors and studded with a handful of asteroids. 

Shiro hums a soft acknowledgment at that, giving Keith a small smile. “More space goo?”

Laughter spills over Keith’s lips, quiet but genuine. “Hunk says he’s been doctoring it up.”

“Spice is the variety of life, right?” Shiro laughs in return, his shoulders easing lower as Keith steps in closer. 

Silence settles around them, a gentle pressing edge to it as so often sprouts when Shiro knows Keith has something on his mind and is reconsidering all the various ways he might approach the topic. He leans his forearms against the railing, keeping his gaze trained on the small bit of a galaxy waiting just outside the window. All of it completely foreign. 

So much of it they’re all expected to save. 

And Shiro wonders how he’s expected to save an entire system of stars and planets, each brimming with lives he knows nothing about, when he can barely save himself some nights.

“Shiro?”

His name seems so terribly small at that moment, uncertainty drowning it to the sound of Keith’s voice. He tips his head to the left so that he can settle his gaze evenly on Keith.

“What is it?”

“Isn’t there,” Keith begins, fingers closing in over the railing, his mouth pulling tight momentarily. “Isn’t there anything you’re afraid of?”

Shiro finds himself smiling in the face of that question, knowing precisely where it has come from. Knowing far too well the uncertainty that can haunt an existence once you start second guessing everything that you are. For Keith, it’s every bit of Galra that bleeds itself into his heart and soul. For Shiro, it’s the empty that stares out at him from the black holes of his memory. 

The laugh that trickles over his lips next is heavy with truth. “A lot actually.”

Keith leans against him, shoulder setting square against his, head canting towards his own. Over the edge of the railing, he brings his hand across to meet Shiro’s and slowly interlaces their fingers. One after the other, with all the permanence a heart can rightly promise.

“Like what?”

Shiro rests his head against Keith’s, letting his eyes fall shut. “The dark.”

*

Shiro can almost hate the way Keith’s lips just linger there, millimeters away from his own. Soft and warm and so very, _very_ tempting. But all they do is smile at him. Shiro has learned to detect that much by the way they slowly curve just a breath before his own, by the faint bit of laughter that puffs itself out against his lips.

Something tickles light against his forehead, Keith dipping his head just a fraction of an inch to the right. And Shiro can imagine it, that play of hair against his skin, and the absolute dark of Keith’s gaze as desire manifests completely remorseless. And Keith has always been so thoroughly unapologetic about the things he has wanted in this tiny spill of space that is all their own. 

A monster unleashed the moment Shiro had admitted every bittersweet truth within him. Because Keith is ruthless in love, and every moment Shiro recognizes that fact, he knows he may as well have cut out his very heart and offered it, silver-plattered and still beating, set to be consumed and made part of something far bigger than it had ever been by itself alone. 

Another breath. Another beat of that smile against his lips. Shiro exhales, shoulders aching. 

Keith pulls a kiss from his lips then, this languid drag of one that lingers and lingers, all smoke on the air ever reminding him of how the world might burn right down. And it makes Shiro think that there are some forms of gratification well worth the fall. 

At that moment, lips part with a soft moan – Keith’s, not Shiro’s. But in its wake, Shiro can feel the smile curving solid and wicked over Keith's mouth, and it puts a shiver right down his spine and makes the darkness all around him forget it ever had anything of fear within its grasp.

Fingers slide beneath the hem of his shirt, slowslowslowly pulling it up over his skin. Cloth rustles as the air sweeps in cold before him, lips left parted and questioning as Keith shifts against him. Then, there is warmth bursting bright as fireworks over his skin, brilliant as its burns one kiss after another from his navel on upwards. The sensation of one mark barely having time to fizzle out before the next is set off, and when teeth graze against his nipple, Shiro finds the breath catching hard in his throat.

Tongue flicks out. Teeth drag again. Shiro moans as his head falls back and the world spins in darkness. 

Fingers press feather-light over his ribs. Seconds later, Keith’s mouth traces the slice of a scar over them, lips then tongue, warm as they alternate outlining all the ways the world has made him a marked man. It pulls the ache right out of his arms and settles it with all the force of a shooting star into his groin. He bucks against his restraints, feeling the bite of canvas over his wrists. But all it does it heighten every bit of feeling sparking across his skin, from the pain right down to the most wretched bit of pleasure cutting across it. Once more, Keith’s lips curve, knowingly, right against the center of his stomach. His tongue flicks out. Teeth nip.

Shiro realizes there are many things to be afraid of when it comes to the dark of the world, and he thinks that of each possible one, Keith might be the most beautifully terrifying of them all.

He feels the pressure before the sound of teeth parting hits his ears, one metal click after another. Slow and sure. But it’s only when the hot and the wet slide over his hardened flesh that his world goes a heart-splitting black and the moan tears itself free of his throat. 

And never has Shiro imagined that being devoured by the monsters of his making could be so utterly exquisite. So complete a release.

*

“Shiro, you go into the dark all the time.”

There is plenty of truth in that, and Shiro wants to simply smile in the face of it. But standing here, alone with just Keith before the vastness of the universe stretching out in front of them, he finds himself laughing instead. It comes out so splendidly broken, this heavy bitter thing that has Keith’s expression falling at the sound of it, lamenting all the things Shiro doesn’t give himself the room to do.

And it is every bit the definition of love that Shiro has ever found himself wanting. 

He gives Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze, turning his gaze back out the window. 

“I know, but there are things inside of my head,” Shiro begins, his voice still jagged with all the emotions, all the emptiness he has never wanted to admit to holding within him. “And there are days when I feel like they’re going to swallow me whole and it's like I don’t even know myself anymore.”

Silence engulfs Keith, leaving him with only that look on his face that tells Shiro he has understood the depths of all that he is far too well, that he isn’t afraid, and that in and of itself is enough to put the shake right into Shiro’s heart. Because never has he felt so completely vindicated as a human being. 

He huffs out softly, letting his lips drift light across Keith’s forehead. 

“There are nights when my whole world goes dark.”

*

Everything has gone impossibly still around him. Keith’s arms are draped across his shoulders, fingertips stroking up and down the back of his neck, dipping into his hair and tugging every so often with the rise and fall of Keith’s hips. And those movements come in tight, controlled waves, threatening to pull him under with every slow slide along the length of his cock. And when Keith pauses, heavy and settled against his thighs, Shiro swears every star has blinked out of existence, and all that remains is the tight heat around him, the quiet pulse of breath as it passes over Keith’s lips, loud as thunder against his ears.

He wants terribly to place his hands on Keith’s hips, to guide each movement, to feel every small twitch of muscle as that perfect spot is hit and has Keith moaning low against his cheek. But all he can do is feel, and feel, and _fucking_ feel as every inch of him is taken again and again. The sweetest bit of madness to ever lay its claws into a man, and Shiro can’t even hate Keith for this because never has the darkness flared so bright. Just like the sun setting fire to the night and consuming the sky whole. 

This brilliant orange licking at the midnight hours, putting the fear of life right into the dark and the cold.

One flick of tongue at a time, hot and searing against his jaw as Keith all but burns Shiro's name right into him. Hips grind down against him, Keith taking his cock whole, and Shiro finds himself panting hard against skin, right along the curve of Keith’s neck. And just when he thinks he can hold on another few moments, several more breaths, Keith has his lips pressed against Shiro’s ear, the curl of them unmistakable as the smile takes firm hold.

Breathless – “Whenever you find yourself lost, think of me, Shiro.”

The heat coils tight as a constrictor in his core, squeezing every last bit of fear out of him, and all around him the world dances black, and the breath aches in his lungs as his heart considers death at Keith’s hands. Every last bit of him spent, sold to a god of fire who burns and burns and burns without relent.

And he is every bit of Shiro’s soul.

Shiro swears he can taste it, the absolute pleasure as Keith comes, sweet and sharp as rock candy over his tongue. Warmth spills across his stomach, lips parted against his own, a smile tugging on them as the breath rushes harsh and satisfied from Keith's mouth. He can hear himself laughing, heart racing, euphoric, and as he leans forward, imagining the space between them and all the ways he can claim it, and settles his mouth against Keith’s, Shiro finds himself grinning into the kiss, relishing the burn as pain cuts across his shoulders.

“You are without a doubt,” he murmurs, staring right into the darkness of his world, consumed by the heat of everything Keith is, “the most amazing birthday gift I have ever received.”


End file.
